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Chapter 10
That night, Margaret was seated at the dinner table for some time, awaiting her father in silence. The cook provided her with consommé whilst she waited, and Margaret gratefully sipped on it, delighting in the warm, salty flavor. Several moments later, her father stumbled in, clearly drunk, and his cravat was untied.
“Daughter, there is much to discuss.”
“So you have said,” Margaret replied softly.
The viscount slumped into his chair, his hair eschew, but with a large smile upon his lips. “It is all sorted.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are to have a husband. It is all arranged. Now I just need to pay for a dress.”
Every muscle in Margaret’s body froze. Surely, he was speaking from drunkenness, but considering her father’s behavior, she gleaned that he must be telling the truth.
“Who is it, Father?” Margaret asked, her heart utterly breaking.
“Lord Darkmoor.”
Lord Darkmoor? But she was to prove herself to him first, and there had been no mention of him since he was last at Pelham Downs.
“How… how is that?”
“The man was impatient. He told me of his loneliness, and we shared in a game of cards.” The viscount wiped his face with his hand. “Sadly, I did not win that game, but you were the wager, and now he will have you.”
To Margaret, all of this was an utter tragedy. Had Lord Darkmoor been pretending to be hesitant? Had he heard of Margaret frequenting Farthington and thought it best to seal the deal?
“Father, I must refuse.”
“Nonsense. You cannot. I feel a sense of relief for this.”
Her father felt a sense of relief for trapping Margaret and forcing her to marry a man that she did not love? No, this was all too great a nightmare to wrap her head around. Margaret stood to her feet, ready to flee that very night. Her father’s words stopped her. “Be seated, Margaret.”
“But I cannot standby and listen to all of this.”
“You may protest all that you like. Oh, Margaret, why do you not feel the relief that I feel?”
Margaret said through her teeth, “Because being forced to marry does not bring any relief. It brings mortification.”
The viscount grasped the table with his hands. “I said… be seated.”
Margaret had no other choice. Oh, that afternoon, she began to believe in hope and freedom again. John had calmed her and steadied her, but now, all of that was a distant memory! Her father had the last say because he was her legal guardian. If only John were there in that very moment to be her strength and stay, but for now, Margaret felt like an unmoored ship in a tempest.
When the cook brought out the main course, Margaret found that she could not eat one bite. Her father eyed her suspiciously. Finally, she forced herself to eat, but the whole ordeal was painful, and once supper concluded, Margaret was more than eager to retreat to her room, where she laid her head upon her pillow and wept.
It was not long before Jane came to the door, and Margaret was more than willing to have her company. “All is lost, Jane.”
“What?” Jane rushed to the bed and placed her hand upon Margaret’s back. “What has happened?”
“It is all over for me. Father has lost me in a wager, to Lord Darkmoor, of all people. I have no choice. I must marry him.”
Jane gently massaged Margaret’s back. “Oh, I am so sorry.” There was genuine pain in Jane’s voice.
“How could I have been so stupid to think that there might be a way out of this?” Margaret wiped the tears from her eyes. “How could I have been so blind? John filled me with hope, but now I know that hope was in vain.”
Jane said softly, “Unfortunately, this was what I was trying to warn you of. I did not wish for my brother to put silly notions into your head.”
“But they were not silly notions,” Margaret protested. “They were beautiful.” Margaret got up on her elbows and tilted her head back towards Jane. “I shall hold onto those thoughts in my mind if only to keep the pain at bay.”
